Killer 7: Assassin Nation
by Manof1000Words
Summary: Follow the exploits of Harman and the Killer 7 thirty years before the game. Chapter 4: Harman has gathered the famed 7, but not everyone is happy with the arrangements. WARNING! Contains a level of violence that is true to the game!
1. Epilogue

**Author's Note: This story is written using the information supplied solely by the handbook for the game, as I have not yet beaten it myself, but I have watched a friend complete the game. So please, allow for some discrepancies. And just as an additional warning, this story does include a level violence that can be held true to the game. If you would like me to dumb down the violence, please say so.**

**And, of course, since you have taken the time to read this, please review it so I can make it better.**

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Killer 7: Assassin Nation

By: Elgato Gordo

Epilogue: The Beat Down

WHAM!

All it took was a good, swift punch to the nose and he was on the ground, blood dripping from the collapsed nostril. The office armchair he once sat in was knocked over, and he was scrambling backwards across the floor trying to move away from his assailant and avoid getting hit again.

"I gave you the option. You refused. So I am now doing things my way."

He tried to move further, but he had already hit the wall. He could move back no further. The only thought left in his mind was, why is this wall here? Panic set in as the Assailant slowly moved closer and closer to him.

"You pissed me off once. So I hit you. You piss me off twice, and Lola here will have some fun," the Assailant said pulling a revolver from inside his coat. "You don't even want to know what happens when you piss me off three times."

By this time, there was a substantial red spot formed on his shirt from his nose's run off. "What do you want from me?"

"You should know that by now. I've only asked you three times already!" The Assailant cocked the gun. "I suggest you think long and hard about what you say next."

Even though his nose stopped bleeding, he was feeling a little dizzy from blood loss. The room was spinning inside his head. The neat room with an over-turned chair. The perfect room lined with dusty old books. The cold room that would serve as his final resting place.

"I already told you, I don't know anything about that."

"LIES!"

Lola screamed as a bullet flew out and hit her target. She screamed again, and again, and again, all hitting the same general area. The bullets greeted their target with pain and bloodshed as the viscous red liquid oozed out of the wound.

He grabbed his arm, screaming in horrible agony, and slumped over onto the floor.

"You have one more chance," The Assailant said, directing Lola's gaze directly at his target's head. "You had better answer me."

"Okay, okay. The combination to the company vault is 29-34-10-56. The deed is held within box 17-A."

"Now, that wasn't so hard now was it."

Lola yelled once more.

"Whoops! Finger slipped." The Assailant put the revolver back into its holster. "Never toy with Harman Smith, Mr. Diggery. It will only end badly for you. As it just did."

Harman stared into the unblinking eyes of Mr Diggery. The left one and the right one, both of which were a gorgeous blue; then the one Lola had created with the last bullet. The round, gaping eye, crying red tears.

Harman gathered his belongings and left. A company vault sat somewhere, waiting to be broken.


	2. A Plan to Form a Syndicate

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**Author's Note: Just a reminder, all details are derived solely from the handbook. PLease allow for discrepancies from the game.**

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Killer 7: Assassin Nation

By: Elgato Gordo

Chapter 1: A Plan to Form a Syndicate

"Garcian. How long has it been?" hissed a calm and reverent Harman as a black man in a white suit sat down across from him in the quaint diner booth. A waitress in white shirt and black, knee-length skirt approached.

"What can I get y'all this mornin'?" she as said, taking out her scribbler and pen.

"Coffee with a shot of mint." Harman motioned towards Garcian. "He will also have a coffee, no milk no sugar."

A simple nod was given by Harman dismissing the waitress. The table remained silent for a moment before Harman glanced at Garcian's large black briefcase. It looked like it housed a rifle, but Harman knew that Garcian uses a silenced handgun. The question had to be asked.

"What is it that you carry in that case of yours, Garcian?"

"Don't make me say it again. I'm a cleaner." Garcian gestured towards the case. "I need somewhere to carry the cold rotting flesh collected as my job describes. I can't revive anyone with out a few essentials, like the heart. Do you know what it's like to hold a heart in your hand as it beats its last beat?"

"Can't say that I have? Unlike you, my specialty is in the kill."

The waitress returned with their drinks, and was dismissed just as quickly with the same, simple nod.

"Why did you need to see me? Do you have a job for me?" Garcian asked.

"Yes; in fact not only a job, but an offer." Harman set the mug on the table and rotated it so the handle was perfectly parallel to the table's edge. "I am trying to form a syndicate of my own and break away from these dogs I currently work for."

"So you want me to be your cleaner."

"The thought had occurred to me. But I also need you to do one more thing." Harman reached into his coat pocket and took out a list of names, each name followed by a three digit number. "That is a list of potential candidates. In fact, they are going to join whether they want to or not."

"You want me to kill them, don't you. Then you want me to revive them."

"You're a bright one aren't you? But that is exactly what I want to happen." Harman took another drink from his mint flavored coffee. "I've selected a room where I need to you to bring their remains and revive them. They will be confused and all they will remember is being shot and killed by you. They will think they are dead. In this vulnerable state, I will play with their minds and offer to return them to Earth on the condition they will work with the man who killed them, being you Garcian, and for a man named Harman Smith. Once complete, the Smith Syndicate will be formed."

"Let's take a look at this list." Garcian grabs the list from Harman. He reads the list to himself. "Dan , Kaede , Coyote , Kevin , Con , Mask de . So these are the people you want me to take care of?"

"Yes. I have other matters that need tending to."

"I'll be on my way then."

"If you need my help, go to a TV and go to channel 1. You will be able to contact me then."

Garcian took a final swig of his drink and left.


	3. Death For Breakfast

Killer 7: Assassin Nation

Chapter 2: Death for Breakfast

The time was 7:55 in the AM. Harman sat in his car waiting for the perfect moment to make his move. The king was taken down, all that was left was to claim the prize, Harman's prize, held in the vault of building he now sits outside of.

7:56 in the AM. He slides on his double shoulder holster over his white dress shirt. Draped over the back of the empty passenger seat was a black dress coat, knee length. Resting on the seat itself is Lola, the silver revolver, and beside her, a black revolver Harman referred to as Mercedes.

7:57 in the AM. Harman grabbed his wide-brimmed hat from off of the back seat and placed it on his head. His hand reached up and adjusted the mirror so he could see himself. First, he checked to make sure nothing was stuck between his teeth, and second adjusted the position of his hat.

7:58 in the AM. He picked Lola up in his left hand and Mercedes in his right.

"Come ladies. It is time for our morning exercises." He put them in the holster, Mercedes under his left shoulder, Lola under his right.

7:59 in the AM. He glanced at his watch.

8:00 in the AM. Harman grabbed his coat from the passenger seat. The rain began, just as the weatherman said it would the night earlier. Harman always welcomed the rain, he felt it was cleansing and refreshing.

8:01 in the AM. Harman had reached the front door of the Diggery Residence. Quickly, he breathes into his hand and checks his breath, then knocks on the door. When it opens, standing on the other side is what Harman assumed to be the butler.

"Good morning, sir. Can I help you?" The butler said.

"Yes, I have an appointment with one Mr. Diggery. It was supposed to be at ten, but I had left him a message saying that due to circumstances beyond my control, I had to move it up to eight o' clock this morning."

"Ah I see. Please, come in. May I take you jacket?"

"No thanks." The butler backed off politely.

"It is with regret that I must inform you but Mr. Diggery hasn't returned yet from his business trip."

"Oh really." Harman faked concern.

"Yes, he left Monday morning. Mr Diggery was expected back last night but, alas, he did not return. But come, the entrance is hardly place for conversation. Why don't I show you to the dining room and make yourself comfortable."

"I would prefer the parlor room." The Butler thought for a moment then led Harman down one of the many side-halls of the estate towards the supposed parlor. "Out of curiosity, where did Mr Diggery go?"

"Oh, he only went to the next town over. He could have easily come home Monday night, but Mrs Diggery hates it when Mr Diggery travels after 7PM. She has a slight complex, you know."

"No, I don't know. Mrs Diggery and I have never met." The Butler motioned for Harman to enter a room off to the left. It was a comfortable room, filled with lavish furniture and worldly artifacts scattered throughout. Harman hummed satisfactorily.

"I assume Mr…"

"Smith. Harman Smith."

"I assume Mr Smith fancies the parlor?"

"I can get used to this." Harman sat in one of the two red leather chairs that circled a small glass coffee table.

"Is there anything I can get you, Mr Smith? Have you eaten yet? How about some breakfast?"

Harman thought for a moment.

"How about a quiche? I'd kill for a good quiche right now."

"Well, I don't think anyone is going to die any time soon, Mr Smith. But I can have the chef cook a quiche for you. It will be approximately half an hour to an hour before it is ready though. It that fine?"

"It is more than adequate." Harman sat and stared at the Butler unblinkingly until he left the room and closed the door.

He continued to sit and stare at the door just to be sure the Butler was gone at which point he rose from the chair and nonchalantly made his was to a elaborately framed life-size print of the Mona Lisa. Standing back for a moment seemingly taking in the majesty of the print, Harman stroked his chin as he, in actuality, was studying the frame. With a lurch forward, he grabs the frame, lifts the print and drops it on the floor behind him. Hidden behind the print was a safe; the Diggery company vault.

"Hmm." Harman grabbed the dial. "29…34…10…56." He pulled the lever next to the dial and opened the safe. Inside were 18 rows of various boxes, and Harman opened the box marked 17-A. A simple envelope laid in the bottom of the box and was soon placed in Harman's pocket.

"Hey! Get away from there!" It was the Butler.

"Choose you next move carefully, Butler. You have know idea what you are about to get into."

The Butler ran over to the wall and sounded the alarm. Simultaneously, Harman's hand dove into his jacket for Lola. Immediately after sounding the alarm, the Butler turned only to be met by a gun wielding Harman.

"Bad choice." Lola rang out and the bullet bore a hole into the Butler's skull.

"FREEZE!" yelled one of the foolish security guards now standing in the doorway.

Harman simply glanced at them, Lola still aiming where the Butler once stood. His free hand reached into his jacket and drew Mercedes. She dove under Lola and opened fire on the guards. Lola quickly readjusted her aim at the guards and joined in the fun.

One after the other, Lola and Mercedes unveiled a shower of death, each landed hit making blood fly. One by one, the guards came, and they fell just a quickly. The once bone white door was now a brilliant dripping red.

Unscathed, Harman got into his car and pulled the envelope out of his pocket.

"Your deed is mine, Mr Diggery. And it is the new home of the Harman Smith Syndicate."


	4. A Syndicate is Born

Killer 7: Assassin Nation

Chapter 3: A Syndicate is Born

It was small, bare room in the basement of an unknown building. There was one small window located near the ceiling on one wall casting a single ray of light into the room, but it falls very short of illuminating the whole. There was just enough light for the occupants to see each others faces. Starting near the wall furthest from the dull wooden door was Dan next to him, in the order they appeared were Kaede, Kevin, Coyote, Con, and Mask. They exchanged confused, but judgemental glances as they stood in silence. All except the blind Con, whose eyes were aimed in some awkward angle into nothingness. Garcian, and a girl named Samantha in a maid's outfit were standing against the wall near Dan.

A minute passed before a man stepped out of the darkness into the beam of light.

Dan was the first to speak.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"It is simple. You have died and I am here to help you."

"Why the fuck would we need the help of an old man?" Coyote blurted.

Obviously ignoring the outburst, Harman continued.

"This is the void. Some call it Purgatory. This is where your destinies will be decided."

"Sounds like something from a cheesy movie," Kaede calmly stated.

"Cheesy as the truth may be, you all have a decision to make." Harman was lying through his teeth, and he knew it. "You all are doomed to burn in Hell. Now, your decision revolves around on whether or not you want a second chance."

"So I'm dead?" a confused Con asked.

"We all are genius," Coyote said with a hint of irritation in his voice.

Con quickly snapped his head in the direction Coyote's voice came from. If he could see, Con would be staring Coyote right in the eyes.

"I'm blind, asshole!"

"Watch the tone of your voice with me."

"Sure thing, mother." Con looked back towards nothing.

"You're beginning to get on my nerves." Coyote drew his gun.

"And this concerns me because..." Con began pushing his luck.

Coyote sighed.

"Because this!" He lifted his gun, pointed it at Con. With one satisfying click, Con's head blew clean off.

It was Harman's turn to sigh.

"Garcian. Clean up in aisle one."

Garcian moved for the first time since the meeting began and gathered the remains of Con in his large black briefcase.

"I'll need a few moments."

"We'll be waiting." Harman stood there silently, his right hand clasping his left wrist, feet shoulder width apart. He calmly stood, whistling a rather cheery fanfare. This made for an uneasy atmosphere for his faux-Purgatory.

Soon enough, Garcian returned, briefcase in hand followed by a newly revived Con.

"How did he do that?" Coyote was bewildered by the return of the 19 year old Con.

"Who's confused now?" Con teased.

"Why you little..." Con's gun came flying out again.

"Please, let's not waste any more time." Harman spoke sternly. He waited for Coyote to return his gun to its holster. "Very good. The choice you must make is whether or not you want to continue on into death or be a part of a very special syndicate. The Harman Smith Syndicate."

"You must be Harman Smith then," Kaede deduced.

"Indeed. If you choose to live you will become a Smith. You will still be considered dead, ghosts if you will, by the public. They will not know of us, save for our clients."

"So let me get this straight," Dan began to pace. "Somehow, we are dead. You have chosen us six to join your syndicate. If we decide, we all become Smiths. I would be Dan Smith, she would be Kaede Smith..."

"...And Kevin Smith, and Coyote Smith, and Con Smith, and Mask De Smith, yes." Harman finished Dan's thought.

"What would we do in this Syndicate?"

"Whatever our clients hire us to do."

"Would this include killing?" Mask, who was quiet until this moment, finally piped in.

"Possibly," responded Harman. "Is that a problem?"

"No. No problem." Mask went silent again.

The whole room went silent and remained that way for a moment before Harman piped up again.

"Seeing as no one seems to be objecting, I am pleased to announce the forming of the Harman Smith Syndicate." He paused for a moment. "Now let's down to business..."


End file.
